


One shots and Drabbles

by LoreKeeper427



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, No Smut, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-07-23 22:27:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16168118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoreKeeper427/pseuds/LoreKeeper427
Summary: A little fluff and maybe some angst in shorts to fill prompts, shorts are in no particular order.Based on my lovely Inquisitor Lacy Trevelyan.





	1. Can you feel this?

Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, illuminating Cullen’s golden curls splayed wildly in all directions. He had stolen the blankets again and Lacy woke at the crack of dawn, chilled and frustrated at having to use the latrine for the second time that night.

She grabbed a glass of water and returned to the bedroom, setting it on the nightstand though she knew she would regret it in about three hours. The flutter caused her to hum pleasantly as she cradled her tummy before climbing back into bed. Then she felt it again, stronger with force.

“Cullen!” Lacy exclaimed, nudging his muscular shoulder. She scoffed, finding the irony he chose this moment to be a challenge to wake for a man whose normal sleep patterns were unrestful and inadequate.

“Mmmm.” Cullen grumbled, turning sleepily away from the pillow and paying her little heed.

With an eye roll and a sigh, Lacy grabbed his hand and placed on her expanded belly. “Can you feel this?”

It took a moment as the baby seemed to be equally as stubborn as its father. Cullen’s eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly. The movements under Lacy’s skin pushed against his calloused palm.

“Maker, that’s…” He gazed deeply into her eyes. Seemingly finding no sufficient words, he kissed her gingerly, never removing his hand. When they finally broke apart, he finished. “a warrior in training.”

A smirk tugged at Lacy’s lips. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

Cullen placed his cheek against the bulging bump and murmured. “You’re the most promising raw recruit yet.”


	2. People like you have no imagination

“People like you have no imagination.” Dorian announced, flipping through the book  displayed on the table in the Herald’s Rest.

“Once Cullen finds out about this, he won’t be able to show his face around the barracks without blushing for months! After the anger subsides and the lecture regarding maintaining professionally appropriate correspondence is issued, of course.” Lacy looked at the graphic sketches-though quite good-on the pages and sucked in breath.

“It’s not every day our Inquisitor and Commander are the stars of smutty literature and art. It’s actually quite… enticing! The author has real talent.” Dorian mused.

“There isn’t even a plot!” Lacy covered her mouth with her hands as though she could recapture the words that tumbled out.

“I knew it!” Dorian quirked an eyebrow and his mouth gaped. “You’ve read it!”

Lacy’s cheeks flushed. “All right! Someone left a copy of it outside our quarters. I assumed it was their way of telling me without the embarrassment of actually telling me, -Hey, so you’re aware there’s a graphic story being passed around the barracks about you and the Commander.”

As if on cue, Cullen entered the tavern, dusting the flurries of snow off of his mantle.

“Shit Dorian, hide that! I haven’t had the chance to tell him about it yet.” Lacy insisted and pushed the book towards Dorian.

He took it from her, slid it to the side of the table, and placed his elbow on top in a poor attempt to conceal it.

Lacy watched as Cullen’s eyes drifted to leather cover, his lips twisting into a knowing smirk.

“Inquisitor,  there’s a situation that requires your undivided attention. Allow me to debrief you when your duties permit.” Cullen leaned forward and whispered in Lacy’s ear. “Might you be interested in page 42?”

It wasn’t a second after Cullen left that Lacy grabbed the book and flipped to a very explicit depiction on the indicated page. She closed it, tucking it under her arm and bit her lip.

“What, you’re just going to leave me here to drink this swill on my own?” Dorian feigned hurt.

With a nervous laugh, she turned to exit through the door. “Sorry Dorian, I’ve got to go. Urgent Inquisition business. Ugh, you know how it is.”   
  
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He called after.  

Leliana’s presence caught Dorian by surprise though he supposed he should have known that there were no such thing as secrets with Nightingale around.

“Were you able to determine the source of Skyhold’s most popular reading material?” Dorian inquired, taking a sip of his ale.  
  
“Officially, no.” Leliana shook her head. “Unofficially, Scout Jim has _quite_ the imagination.”


	3. How can I trust you?

Cullen paced the garden of the Winter Palace. As much as he used to hate it here, now it didn’t seem so bad despite the exalted council breathing down the Inquisition’s neck.The sun illuminated the courtyard, a light breeze blew and flowers had bloomed speckling the palace with much needed color. It was an otherwise beautiful day or would be, until the dwarf’s arrival.  
  
When Varric came into view, Cullen grabbed him by his finery jacket and pulled him aside. “How can I trust you?” Cullen hissed. “You told Cassandra.”  
  
“I may have let something slip about the impending proposal.” Varric admitted with a shrug. “What? She _loves_ to hear about all of the plan details.”  
  
“Be that as it may, she is Lacy’s closest confidant. She’ll tell her before I’ve the chance to ask.” Cullen released him and returned to pacing.  
  
“ _Closest_? That’s debatable, Curly.” Varric tried to smooth out the wrinkles. “I’m almost offended.”  
  
“That’s hardly the point.” Cullen muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. The fresh air had always helped alleviate his headaches. “I had a plan.”  
  
“Did you ever think that was the problem?” Varric stood in front of Cullen, halting his steps. “Charmer’s answer isn't going to change if you fill the room with candles, bouquets of roses, or take her to a ridiculous and overly priced meal. Not that she doesn’t deserve it, but she wouldn’t care if you wrote her a missive. You love her right?”  
  
“Of course.” Cullen answered.  
  
“Want to be with her the rest of your days, right?”  
  
“There’s no question.”  
  
“Then what’s the problem!?” Varric exclaimed with a swat to Cullen’s torso. “The best thing you can do Curly, is to _not_ have a plan. It’ll all work out, you’ll have to trust me.” Varric offered a small wave and turned to leave.”  
  
“Misplaced trust is what put me in this position.” Cullen grumbled.  
  
“That assumes you were wrong seeking my advice in the first place.” Without looking behind him, Varric responded. “You weren’t.”  
  
The mabari came out of the bushes, seemingly eavesdropping on the conversation and cocked his head at Cullen. A soft whine escaped the dog’s mouth and Cullen petted the top of his head. “Come on, you. We’ve something to take care of.”  
  
***  
_The best thing you can do Curly, is to not have a plan._ Varric’s words haunted him. He’d been the Commander of the Inquisition for years now. Having a plan was a necessity, a requirement of his duties, but the time for professionalism to be put aside was forthcoming with the impending summit.  
  
Lacy had come to speak with Cullen in the middle of Recruit’s fireball training which had been keeping his thoughts distracted from the earlier conversation. He mulled over Varric’s advice and his brain’s incessant nagging forced him to make his mind shut up.  
  
“Marry me.” He blurted.  
  
“What!?” Cullen felt stupid immediately as her eyes widened and she gaped in shock.  
  
Embarrassed, his hand flew to his neck in habit and his cheeks tinged pink. He tried to recover, explaining about a plan and there not being a dog.  
  
She laughed at him, the smile reaching her eyes. “I would. Cullen, I will.”  
  
“You will?” Cullen mused. _Perhaps the dwarf wasn’t wrong, after all._


	4. Will that be all?

Lacy heard the rapid footfalls and the clinking metal before Cullen stormed through Josephine’s office to the war room. Obviously, he was less than thrilled with her most recent idea.  
  
“What is the meaning of this?” He declared. His brows furrowed and he began waving the report in the air before setting it down on the table.  


Lacy quirked her eyebrow and bit her lip to stifle her laughter. She leaned forward for visual confirmation. “Why Commander, it appears as though Scout Harding sent you a recommendation on alternative fire building materials and a potential weapon for sieges.”

 

“You endorsed it!” Cullen pointed to Lacy’s signature.

 

“Indeed, she made a very strong case. Not only was it plausible but inexpensive and her plan details collection, storage, and placement. Harding was quite prepared.” Lacy explained, sorting recently completed operations and those still on the to do.

  
Cullen paced, opening and closing his mouth as though he wanted to speak but wasn’t certain of the appropriate sentence. “You read this? Then agreed with this course of action?” He said the words slowly as though he was trying to allow his mind to register them.   
  
“Of course, I wouldn’t have I signed off on it otherwise.”   
  
Cullen shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He stood firmly at attention before putting his index finger in the air. “The men will _not_ be required to use Bogfisher fecal matter for any aspects of defense. Certainly _not_ under orders.”   
  
Lacy almost gave herself away by snorting and covered it with a cough. Because only Cullen could find a way to refer to shit with professional decorum and maintain a straight face. “The plan outlines the offensive uses as well, did you see those? They’re rather inventive.”   
  
“The answer is no, Inquisitor.” Cullen stated flatly, shifting his weight.   
  
Keeping stoicism plastered on her features, Lacy ignored his attitude and responded. “Will that be all, Commander?”   
  
Cullen’s eyes narrowed and he sucked in a sharp breath. “I refuse to issue this order.”   
  
“Will that be all, _Commander_ ?” Lacy repeated, emphasizing his title.   
  
Cullen rolled his neck, turned on his heel and left the war room without saying another word.   
  
Once he was out of earshot, Lacy giggled. “It’s okay Harding, he left. It’s safe to come out now.”   
  
Scout Harding crawled out from underneath the war table and sighed.   
  
“It really was a good idea.“ Lacy placed a hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder. “I told you he’d never go for it. He’s too dignified.”   
  
“You mean uptight.” Harding dusted the specks of dirt off her armor. “When are you going to tell him we were messing with him?”   
  
“Oh.” Lacy laughed. “I won’t. I’ll inform him later that I’ve changed my mind.”   
  
“He’ll buy that?” Harding inquired.   
  
“Nah, probably not, but that display was the most amusing thing of my entire day.”  



	5. You Should Have Seen it

“You should have seen it!” Cassandra sighed dreamily. “The Inquisitor came down the stairs with her gown and it swayed and glittered and the entire time, the Commander gazed upon her like she were the only person in the room.” She stared up towards the ceiling.

“I am quite aware.” Josephine marked items off her checklist. “We are still receiving letters from displeased Orlesians regarding the Inquisition bringing someone as handsome as the Commander to the Winter Palace when he is already spoken for.” Punctuating her words in the air, the quill was used for emphasis.

“That is why you do not write books, and I do, Seeker.” Varric announced, talking with his hands **.**

Cassandra sneered. “How would you tell it, Varric?” Her tone rang with the disgust he’d become accustomed to.

“Let the professionals handle this, will you?” Varric cleared his throat and intertwined his hands, extending them outwards and cracking his knuckles. “The ballroom door was opened by the servant who stared in awe of the female before him. A small gasp resounded, echoing through the room as all eyes turned to drink in the sight that was Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan. Pinned by a clip of diamonds, her hair was half up and curls cascaded around her shoulders, she stood tall in her gown which fitted her form as tightly as an Orlesian corset. Embellishments of silver adorned the midnight blue dress, falling to the floor in layers with glitter speckling the tulle in a light dust, glinting in the candlelight. Despite the Commander’s admirers, he pushed through the crowd, unable to divert his attention. When he stood before her, he felt like a peasant meeting a queen as he bowed with flourish and extended his hand.” Varric deepened his voice. “My Lady, it would be an honor to escort you. With a smile, Lady Trevelyan curtseyed.” Varric raised the pitch to a soprano. “Oh, Thank you my handsome Commander.” Returning the tone back to normal, he continued. “The Commander and the Inquisitor were the highlight of the ball, and they danced with the grace which rivaled the competition, making every woman want to be Trevelyan and every man want to be Curly. He swept her across the floor, entwined in each others arms. As the music came to a close, he leaned her back and held her securely, placing a tender kiss against her lips. Quite the scandal. Sobs of women were heard around Thedas for the rest of the night.”

“That is not how it happened.” Josephine declared. “I was present, remember.”

Cassandra’s chin rested on the palms of her hands, listening intently, nearly dazed at the whirlwind story. “But you didn’t let him finish!” Cassandra insisted. “Don’t ruin it!”

“Sorry Seeker, You’ll have to buy the book if you want to know the rest.” Varric teased.

A groan and a disgusted noise emerged from Cassandra’s mouth.

“Mmm” Josephine mused. “And what will you be calling this one?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Varric questioned. “ _This Shit is a Fairy Tale_.”


	6. Take What You Need

“Commander.” Lacy greeted. “Dorian has spent the morning prattling on and critiquing my library. He’s looking for A specific book and before I call in favors from the Ambassador to acquire it, I hoped to peruse your personal collection.”

Cullen looked up from the stack of papers on his desk and nodded. Motioning to the bookshelf, he announced. “Take what you need.”

With bounce in her step, Lacy walked to the shelf, starting at the leather bound covers. “Have you read most of these?”

“What? Oh the books. I believe so, I’m well read.” Cullen confirmed.

“ _Alamarri Battle Tactics, Ferelden’s Heraldry_.” Lacy quirked an eyebrow. “So you’ve read, _How to Train your Mabari?_ Do you even have a dog?”

“Wait, what- I don’t recall…” Cullen muttered, his attention diverted from the war reports on his desk.

“ _How to form an effective shield wall: teaching those who can’t be taught._ ” Lacy read aloud.

“A gift from Bull: his attempt at humor, I suppose.”

_“The Field Guide To Death and Dismemberment?”_

“Now, hold a moment. That can’t be correct.”

 _“Your Trebuchet and You: The Ultimate Guide To Siege Warfare.”_ Lacy snickered. “How _you_ of you.”

“It’s an essential-”

“ _The Randy Dowager Quarterly!?_ ” Lacy gasped. “Commander, I had no idea this was your preferred reading material.”

“I, it’s not, I-”

“I believe I’ve seen enough of your collection. It’s not quite my tastes.” Lacy tilted her head and smacked her lips. “I’d pegged you as someone more refined and not one to read this drivel. But to each their own, right? No matter how _scandalous_.”

“I ugh- Maker’s Breath.” Cullen rubbed his neck as his cheeks tinged pink. “It’s not mine.”

“Mmhm, surely not, Commander.” Lacy walked out the door and it slammed behind her.

“Pay up, Dorian. His face was apple red.” Lacy announced. “I win.”

“It was more of a tomato red.” Varric chuckled. “I win, Charmer, you owe me.”

“It was certainly Commander red.” Dorian declared. “I win.” Holding his hands out to each side, they placed coin in Dorian’s hands.

“That’s a shit bet,” Lacy grumbled. “as Commander, he’ll always be Commander red.”

“And yet, both of you accepted. Easiest coin I’ve never earned.”

“I suppose that’s what I get for agreeing after drinking Maraas-Lok.” Lacy smacked her forehead with her palm. "Never again."


	7. Oh Please, like this is the worst I've done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. I am behind due to a death in the family. I am playing catch up now.

Lacy mentally checked off the various items on her to do list. A satisfied smirk spanned her features, proud of her own mischief.  
  
So far she had managed to turn every book in the Commander’s shelf the wrong way, rearranged the drawers in his desk, sent him a stack of Orlesian betrothal offers labeled _for urgent consideration_ , knocked at his office repeatedly despite his open door policy only to run and conceal herself in the nick of time, but this, _this_ took the cake.

Accompanying the Inquisition banners in the armory, the main hall of Skyhold, and the war room, were pinned small clothes for public view. Lacy borrowed the garments- once laundered, of course- from the servant. It was the closest thing she had to a Chantry board and not only did it increase his proposals from the Orlesian guests and provide Cullen public embarrassment, the fact that his initials were embroidered on them gave her a smug sense of gratification. _Those commanding cheeks will match his mantle for months!_ She thought, stifling a chuckle.  
  
“I take it this is your doing, my dear?” Dorian’s voice caught her off guard and she jumped to the side, slamming her elbow against the door to the main hall. 

“Whatever would give you that idea?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate the effort,” Dorian linked his arm within hers, “but he is going to be royally pissed off.”  
  
“Probably,” Lacy shrugged. “But at least he’ll have a reason to be an uptight ass all the time.” 

“Then again,” Dorian mused, “maybe this will be better seeing as how his ass won’t chafe. I always assumed that was cause for his mood.”  
  
“See, I’m doing him a favor.” 

With a pointed look and a quirked eyebrow, Dorian indicated he didn’t believe her.

“Oh, please. like this is the worst thing I’ve done. The Commander can’t twist his trousers if he isn’t wearing any. Skyhold will thank me.”  
  
“If Skyhold doesn’t, the Orlesians certainly will.” He gestured to the gathering crowd, fawning and fanning themselves, fighting one another with handless gloves to obtain the undergarments.  
  
A whistle resounded in her ears as both Lacy and Dorian turned their attention to Varric and Bianca then back to the door to Josephine’s office where the clothing stuck off the bolt which pierced through. 

“Bianca!” Varric praised. “That was a beautiful shot.” He sauntered up and collected his prize. “Sorry ladies. I need to borrow these.”  
  
“Borrow them Varric?” Lacy questioned, “Whatever for?”  
  
“A story and a bet, not necessarily in that order.” He explained.  
  
“INQUISITOR!” Cullen’s voice boomed like thunder and there was no doubt in her mind that he would look as fierce as a storm cloud when he finally caught up with her.  
  
Lacy immediately released Dorian’s arm and chuckled nervously. “Whatever you have planned Varric, count me in for 5 gold.” She turned abruptly, headed towards the secret library.  
  
“Tell me about this wager.”  
  
Cullen came through the main hall, jaw set and hands behind his back. It was clear in his stride, he was a man on a mission. “Where is she!?”  
  
Both Dorian and Varric pointed in opposite directions eliciting a snarl from Cullen as he made his way to her quarters, only to be stopped and nearly mobbed by the Orlesian nobles in his path.  
  
“Who will emerge victorious in the impending duel.” Varric finally answered. “I’ve got 15 gold on Curly.”  
  
“I’ll see that bet.” Dorian declared. “10 on Lacy.” As he turned to walk away, he explained. “She plays dirty, she did that shit on purpose.”  
  
“Ha!” Varric snorted.

The Commander pushed the Orlesian women off and by the time Varric saw his face, he was smothered in numerous carmine imprints on his cheeks, lips, and forehead.  
  
Lacy slipped through the door from the rotunda and when Cullen’s eyes met hers, she couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his new look.  
  
“Inquisitor.” Cullen fumed, the anger seething from him. “As your advisor, I’d recommend you run.”


	8. This is going to be so much fun (A continuation of Chapter 7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Miss_ragdoll84, this has now become a bigger thing than I anticipated. The plot of chapter 7 will be expanded through multiple days of prompts, posted sequentially.
> 
> Chapter 8 is part two. Warning for language.

To Lacy’s credit, she had managed to avoid Cullen since running out of the Main Hall per his orders. Perhaps he didn't want to increase his humiliation and retreated to clean the kiss marks off of his face. Whatever the reason, this game of cat and mouse proved quite amusing. However, as she’d left the Herald’s rest,- _with three more than one too many drinks_ \- she literally walked smack into him as she exited the tavern from the third story onto the battlements.

With a stern expression, narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, he said nothing merely pointing to his office. Lacy thought to run, but given her inebriated state, whether she would get far was debatable. Reluctantly she agreed, using the parapets for balance and following him through the door he held open.

Taking his place behind his desk, he leaned forward, distributing his weight against it with both hands. “Inquisitor,” Cullen sighed, “there is much to be done. Work which takes precedence over foolishness and irrational behavior. I’ve not the time nor the patience to consistently deal with trivial matters.”  
  
“Commander,” Lacy groaned, dragging her hand from her forehead to her chin, “do you ever lighten up? Seriously, what will it take for you to not be so damn _you_ , all the time?” 

If she wasn’t impaired, she would have seen the mischief sparkle in his amber eyes.  
  
“A proposition perhaps.” Cullen cleared his throat. “I challenge you to a duel, it’s the only appropriate way to settle this.”  
  
“And the terms?” Lacy crossed her arms.  
  
“Should you win,”  
  
“When I win.” Lacy winked and corrected

“Should you emerge victorious,” Cullen repeated. “I’ll allow these distractions to continue with minimal complaint.”  
  
“With no complaints,” Lacy balanced herself against the opposite side of the desk. She hoped she delivered acceptance of his challenge in an intimidating way. There was no doubt, she could prove the grave error he made issuing it. “and if you win?”  
  
A smirk tugged at Cullen’s lips, pulling at his scar. “Then this nonsense stops immediately.”  
  
“When and where, Commander?” Lacy quirked her eyebrow and extended her hand.  
  
“Tomorrow morning following council.” Cullen formally accepted. "Sparring ring."  
  
“Deal.”

**********

Despite the arrangement being made in closed quarters, by the time Lacy arrived for her duel against the Commander, spectators from every department in the Inquisition had stationed themselves five feet outside the arena. 

She took deep breaths, rolling her shoulders and bouncing her weight from foot to foot before she parted the people and made her way through the crowd.

Punctual, as expected, he’d been waiting for her with sword in hand. Prepared, also as expected, save for one detail. She’d anticipated him in his armor, adding extra weight to his person and hindering his movements. His choice of attire, or lack thereof, put her at an immediate disadvantage as she found Cullen completely shirtless. The sun gleamed off chiseled muscles, sculpted abs and rippling pectorals; flexing and contracting with each movement.  
  
_Well, fuck._ It was a distraction, a Maker damn effective one too _._ How could anyone spar with a man who looked like a god and be in their right mind? It wasn’t possible for him to be oblivious to how pretty he was. _This is ridiculous._ He was using his greatest weapon and it was far from a fair fight.

“Commander.” Lacy greeted tersely. “You failed to mention armor was optional.”  
  
“Is there a problem?” Cullen plunged his sword in the dirt, resting his hand on the pommel.  
  
Lacy clicked her tongue and cocked her head to the side. _How exactly did one announce to the Commander-who you generally do not get along with- that he is a tall, gorgeous, sweaty, muscular, naughty dream prompting diversion?_ The mere idea of touching him in any way, shape or form in his state of undress sparked wildly inappropriate thoughts and well, it did _things_ to her that it most certainly should not do. He was her Commander, and occasionally an ass. They used to be friends, but now she filled her days with entertainment by irritating the fuck out of him, not by fucking the irritation out of him. “Me wearing armor will give you an unfair advantage. Surely, you would not compromise our deal with underhanded tactics. Of all the names I’ve ever called you, a _cheat_ has not been among them.”  
  
“Inquisitor, this is my standard for sparring.” Cullen smirked. “I’ll not don nor require heavy plate to best you.”  
  
Lips pressed into a hard line as she provided a curt nod of understanding. If he was going to be an ass about this, then she would have to even the playing field, one way or another. Clearing her throat, she muttered excuse me and made her way to Dorian. Removing her armor piece by piece she handed it to him, piling more and more into his already full hands. When she had disrobed down to a pair of breeches and a cotton tunic, she took it one step further. If the Commander didn’t have to fight fair, neither would she. Removing her shirt, she stood in only her breast band. Though her bosom was thoroughly covered, it exposed enough flesh to leave little to the imagination, showing off the Circle of Magi tattoo on her left shoulder and the flaming templar sword of the order on her right. The action caused the soldiers and those present to hoot and holler, whistling like dogs and she snickered, confident and ready.

Grabbing her sword, she re-entered the ring.

Cullen gaped, eyes wide. "Inquisitor, this is inappropriate."

“Is something wrong?" Lacy’s expression narrowed in determination. "You said this was standard, no?” _Two can play your game Commander._

"I- Yes, but- ah..." Cullen averted his stare, seemingly trying to look anywhere else except for her as his cheeks tinged pink. He cleared his throat. "Shall we begin?"  
  
Dorian announced with glee from somewhere behind her . “This is going to be so much fun!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, part of the not yet posted and long story of Lacy Trevelyan- She was sent to the templar order to hide her being a mage, which is why she has a tattoo of each on her shoulders.


	9. I have waited so long for this! (Continuation of chapter 7 and 8.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Chapter 7 and 8. I have waited so long for this.
> 
> This was really fun to write. Thank you to Miss_Ragdoll84 for encouraging me to continue. Who knows what direction I would have taken otherwise.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Varric stepped forward to announce the rules. “Magic will result in immediate disqualification.” His gaze pointed towards Lacy. “As will the use of Templar abilities.” He turned his attention to the Commander. 

Lacy rolled her eyes, she didn’t need magic to beat Cullen, she’d underwent more templar training than he had.

“The first to disarm your opponent wins; this is not to draw blood. You are confined to the ring and limited to physical tactics and swords for weapon combat only. Is that clear?”  
  
“Crystal.” Lacy murmured in agreement and Cullen responded with a nod.  
  
“Very well,” Varric tossed Cullen’s smallclothes in the air. Marking the start as they fell to the ground, he announced. “Begin!”

Amber eyes locked with hers, speculating the moves of the other as each side stepped to their right, circling the opposition. 

They charged simultaneously, swords clanging in the middle.  
  
“Was your display necessary, Inquisitor?” Cullen applied pressure, pushing both their blades closer to Lacy.  
  
“Was yours, Commander?” She challenged. Truthfully, she wasn’t certain if he did it on purpose, but the fact it affected her fueled her determination. She shifted her weight, circling her sword and breaking the stalemate.

Cullen lunged at her, swiping his weapon to her left which she deflected.

 _He’s trying to use my shield side against me, thinking it’s the weaker of the two. Clever._ Taking the opportunity, she swung low drawing his attention away momentarily. With a flick of her wrist, she spun north, trying to swat his knuckles with the face of the blade.  
  
A series of ringing sounds reverberated in quick succession as metal scraped against metal, occasionally drawing sparks from sheer force.  
  
The sweltering heat beat down and Lacy found herself grateful for the lack of armor. Perspiration collected on Cullen’s brow and body. The arena filling with the scent of sweat, elderflower, lavender, and honey as they collided, comrade against comrade.  
  
They navigated around the circular arena with ease, performing Templar taught maneuvers and specialty moves learned from their respective stations. With evenly matched skill sets, the duel had become entertaining for the spectators. Roars and cheering thundered in the area rumbling within the walls of the keep. The crowd was split, with half of those in attendance rooting for the Commander and the other for the Inquisitor.    
  
Their chants filled Lacy with a renewed sense of power. Despite her fatigue, she maintained calm and even breaths, reserving her best and most taxing offensive attacks for when an appropriate time presented itself, sustaining defense. Blindly throwing herself at Cullen would mean certain loss; which was not acceptable.  
  
With his free hand, he attempted to knock her sword away to no avail. Lacy hooked her elbow around his arm keeping still to turn and delivered a blow to Cullen’s back with the pommel of her weapon.

Winded as a result, Cullen released a huff of breath.

Lacy maneuvered around to his right side. With a sweep to the leg, he took her knee out from under her and she fell backwards, hitting the ground. A groan and a cough escaped her lips. Ensuring still, that her sword remained firmly grasped in her right hand.

Using all the force she could muster, she scissored her legs around his ankle bending her knees and jerking. It resulted in Cullen shifting his weight and staggering in her direction, narrowly missing landing on top of her as he fell and rolling to the left, sword still ready.  
  
_Maker._ Lacy thought, staring at the sky before willing herself back to her feet. _How can I beat him?_ She rolled her shoulders, loosening her achy muscles and inhaled deeply. Eyes fixated on Cullen.

With a roar, he thrust forward, using his sword as one would a staff, grasping the metal by the smooth sides with his fingertips.  
  
They clashed with her poor attempt at deflection and found themselves locked again. She mimicked his grip, evenly distributing her strength behind her blade. Though the action gave her brief pause. It was no secret that Cullen could overpower her if he wished it. Lacy had speed on her side, and she would need to leverage that into a concession.

  
As the event bordered on forty five minutes the battle made her weary. Her hair was drenched and the breast band clung to her skin. She panted, he had been more of a challenge than she’d given him credit for. What began as comfort quickly morphed into something else when she saw that Cullen appeared equally disheveled. 

Unruly locks fell from their tamed position, one of the tresses in particular curled above his right eye, sticking to his forehead. Given the proximity of their sweat covered bodies and their scent lingering in the air, it was impossible not to notice how absurdly sexy he was. No, she would not allow a pretty face to infringe upon her mental fortitude. Were she to lose, it would be because he had more skill, unless of course, she used expertise of a different kind.  
  
Varric’s words re-played within her thoughts. _You are confined to the ring and limited to physical tactics and swords for weapon combat only._ With her jaw set, a wickedly delicious plan began to formulate, her lips curving into a sly smile. Mustering every ounce of energy she had, she pushed forward and ducked, still keeping grip on her weapon but sliding herself underneath and through Cullen’s stance. She hopped to her feet as he turned abruptly to defend against her next attack, never anticipating the maneuver. 

Lacy rolled her wrist pointing the sword away, she grabbed the back of Cullen’s neck with her left hand and pulled him to her in a mind numbing, searing kiss. Seemingly startled at first, he froze, stiff and rigid before relaxing, relenting, and reciprocating.

The roar of the crowd became deafening, melting into the background. Time stopped and the world stilled, for that one singular moment it was Lacy and Cullen delving into the unknown. A flutter rippled though her chest causing uneasiness at the unfamiliar. She pressed her body flush against him, as his mouth parted to allow her tongue entry. After sweeping it across his bottom lip, she bit gently, allowing the sensation to linger, simultaneously hearing his sword thud to the ground. Stroking his face, she pulled away slowly ceasing their interaction, feeling a chill, disappointment, and a pang in her heart by the immediate absence. 

“By my blushing buttcheeks!” Dorian’s voice penetrated the other voices in the crowd. “I have waited _so long_ for this!”

Cullen stared at her dumbfounded, gaze flickering from Lacy to his weapon. He opened his mouth as if to speak but no words came.  
  
With a soft chuckle Lacy cocked her head, looking deep within his eyes. “No complaints, remember Commander?” Lacy turned on her heel swiftly departing the sparring ring, leaving Cullen standing flabbergasted.  
  
Varric huffed and crossed his arms in defeat. “Charmer, that’s cheating!”  
  
“Technically,” Leliana interjected. “You stated _physical tactics_ could be used. The Inquisitor didn’t break any rules.” A knowing smirk played at her lips. “Well played.”  
  
Dorian swatted Varric on the shoulder and extended his hand expectantly. “Lacy is victorious, pay up!”  
  
“Now hold a moment, Sparkler.” Varric defended, withdrawing the coin purse. “Charmer may have disarmed him, but Curly clearly won.”  
  
“Be that as it may; that is two entirely different topics.” Dorian grabbed the bag, jingling his earnings within. “See, losing money can be both relaxing and habit forming, so glad you gave it a try.”    

"No matter." Varric shrugged. "I'll get my money back by selling Curly's small clothes to the highest Orlesian bidder!"


	10. I know how you love to play games (Continuation of plot that began in chapter 7)

Generally, Cullen relished when the Inquisitor was on business elsewhere. It meant his office remained undisturbed, focus on duty was un-interrupted, and he wasn’t scouring the grounds of Skyhold to confront Lacy regarding her childish behavior. It was quiet, peaceful, productive and _drove him absolutely mad_.

She’d been home for two weeks and nothing had happened. _Nothing at all._ The first few days, he’d anticipated a visit, for reports to be disheveled, his ink to be switched with the kind that disappeared, his books to be tampered with: _something!_

Eventually, he made it a point to leave his tower at abnormal times _hoping_ to return and find various items out of order. But everything remained in its rightful place, untouched. It wasn't long before he was certain that her lack of scheming, was a ploy in and of itself. Even their war council meetings had been more tame than usual and she paid him no attention unless it was duty related. There was no indication of her being as flustered as he. 

 _It meant nothing._ To accept anything else would be ridiculous and wildly inappropriate. He refused to think about how their bare skin touched during their match, how her slender, toned body caused blood to pool in his groin, or give any further credence to their hollow kiss. It was a tactic, a clever manipulation of the situation that resulted in her victory. It could be nothing more, he would not allow it. 

Obviously, his former lyrium use impaired him. He wasn't thinking rationally. Someone of sound mind would not miss the arguments or pranks. Why did normalcy bother him so? It wasn’t possible- could not be possible- that he _missed_ Lacy, of all people.

The only strategy he could formulate was to outright ask. But how? After all, it was within his position to ensure the health and safety of the Inquisitor. It wouldn’t look suspicious for him to inquire as to her well being.  _Would it? Did it matter if it was?_

The opportunity arose when Cullen ventured to the garden gazebo to meet Leliana for chess. Planting newly acquired seeds, Lacy dug through the soil. She hadn’t seen him, and Cullen could have walked by avoiding contact and the headache he was certain would follow. Yet, for whatever reason, he was unable to. Her behavior ate at him and it was pertinent for Inquisition business he verify the cause, or at least that was the justification he told himself.

“Inquisitor.” He greeted, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword.  
  
Stopping abruptly, she stood, turned to face him, and saluted Inquisition style. “Commander.”   
  
“Are you all right?”   
  
“Yes,” Lacy placed her arms behind her back and offered a polite smile, although not genuine as it didn’t reach her eyes. “I am well, you?”   
  
Her voice was monotone. “Are you certain?” Cullen shifted his weight, confusion settling within. Usually, it was clear by her expression if she was angry, sad, happy, or any other emotion. Currently, he found her unreadable: as though every movement was practiced with carefully chosen words and he wondered why.

“Of course, Commander. Was there something you needed?”  
  
He thought about that for a moment, nearly biting the inside of his cheek at his own lack of preparedness. “The reports from the Graves; when might I expect them to be delivered?” Cullen clenched his teeth at his own stupidity. If she was in Skyhold, reports were delivered twice daily once complete, unless urgent. He knew this.

“Sundown.” Her lips pressed into a hard line. “As scheduled.”  
  
“Very good.”

“Was there anything else I could assist you with?” Lacy inquired, stoicism plastered on her features.

“Not at present.”  
  
“Carry on.” Formally dismissing him, she saluting once more before turning her attention back to the pot of soil.

Cullen returned in kind, as was standard professional decorum and scratched his head. Walking along the stone path, passing the flowers and the well, he looked behind him only to see that Lacy was no longer there. He took his seat across from Leliana. _If there is something wrong, the Spymaster would know exactly what._

“Commander.” Leliana stared at him. “You’re in a mood.”

He wondered if he was blatantly obvious or if she knew because she knew all. “The Inquisitor,” Cullen exhaled deeply, his brows and nose crunched in thought. “she is…”  
  
“Acting strangely?” Leliana finished, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes.”  
  
“And you want to know why.” A smirk spread across her face. “She and Cassandra had words regarding the duel. I suspect it did not go well.”

“I know how you love to play games,” Cullen announced, “but as you stated, I’m not in the mood. What aren’t you disclosing?”

 


	11. I hope you have a speech prepared (Continuation from Chapter 7 on.)

“Corrupting the moral integrity of a former templar?” Lacy shook her head in disbelief. “Maker, Cass, you _cannot_ be serious.”

“I am quite serious.” Cassandra defended. A soft breeze blew, flapping the tent cloth from her hands as she began to dismantle their campsite.

“Oh good.” Lacy groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb. “I _do_ hope you have a speech prepared as I am most eager to listen.”

“Sarcasm will not garner you any favors.” Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “It was inappropriate, especially in front of the soldiers.”

“It was practically scandalous!” Lacy defended, running her hands down her face. “They loved it just as much as everyone else did!” 

“Including you?” Dorian mused, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
“I did not-”

“That wasn’t how it looked from where I stood.” Dorian interjected.

Lacy’s cheeks flushed but she tried to ignore it, reverting back to the original topic. “Perhaps the more pressing concern is that you think the Commander could have his moral integrity compromised over a kiss.”

“He is troubled. Your undue influence over him will not help his endeavors.”  
  
“My undue... “ Lacy repeated, flabbergasted. Cocking her head to the side, she stared at Cassandra, trying to register what she’d said. “When did I become Dorian in this scenario?” She gave Dorian a sideways glance. “No offense, of course.”

Dorian shrugged. “None taken my dear.”

With a wink, her attention returned to Cassandra. “How exactly is the Commander troubled?"  _Because of stopping lyrium?"_ She thought.  _Apparently it excuses shit behavior._ "He struts around Skyhold as though he runs the damn keep, acting like he’s the most handsome person to ever traipse through our gates.”

“Second most handsome.” Dorian cleared his throat behind her and corrected. “I’m first, of course.” 

 _Pretty or not, Cullen still has issues he needs to work through._ Lacy sighed. “I’m simply stating that he isn't anywhere near as fragile as you think he is. He’s an ass, he has been since we arrived at Skyhold. All I did was knock him down from his high horse. I’m certain it isn’t a grievous wound. His pride will recover.”  

“Your incessant pranks, the teasing, putting him down in presence of others who work for the Inquisition. It diminishes the respect he deserves. He has been through more than you know.” Cassandra’s tone was stern but sympathetic, though not towards Lacy.

Her jaw set and she gritted her teeth. "I have never put him down or spoken ill of him in front of anyone!"

She wondered if Cassandra had any idea about the blood for the phylactery Cullen requested and debated if her opinion would change should the information come to light. Lacy bit her lip, she was better than that. _Would be_ better than that. It was what started the endeavor to make his life miserable. The pranks were payback then became a natural way of operations. Besting him in front of the population of Skyhold was just desserts, yet Cass came to his defense? _Ridiculous._  

As though her silence were defiance, Cassandra reiterated. “Leave the Commander alone. Unless it pertains to the Inquisition, don’t bother him.”

She ran her tongue across her teeth, thoroughly pissed. With a huff, she grabbed her pack and sat next to Dorian, putting away the cookware from the night before. 

“Why didn’t you tell her about the phylactery?” He whispered. A soothing hand rested on Lacy’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

“Have you ever heard the expression: _be the woman who fixes another’s crown, without telling the world it was crooked_?” She hung her head and rolled the muscles in her neck. “I’ll not ruin her perception of Cullen, regardless of how skewed it may be. I’ll do as asked, and leave him alone.”

“You’re a good person, you know.” Dorian placed a kiss on her cheek. 

“Shhh.” Lacy hushed and smiled. “Don’t let that get around, I’ve a reputation to uphold.”

 


End file.
